Lives washed away

Swathes of Serbia, Bosnia and Croatia have been ravaged by flooding and landslides since the heaviest rainfall in more than a century caused rivers to burst their banks, sweeping away roads, bridges and homes.

The regional death toll has reached 50 and may rise further, with many people still missing.

17 May 2014. ZENICA, Bosnia and Herzegovina. REUTERS/Dado Ruvic

In Bosnia up to 35,000 people were evacuated by helicopter, boat and truck and as many as 500,000 left their homes of their own accord, Assistant Security Minister Samir Agic told Reuters.

Bosnian Foreign Minister Zlatko Lagumdzija said more than 100,000 houses and other buildings in Bosnia were no longer fit to use and that over a million people had been cut off from clean water supplies.

The kind of human displacement caused by the disaster has not been seen in the country since more than a million people were driven out by ethnic cleansing in the Bosnian war two decades ago.

19 May 2014. Krupanj, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

The floods have likewise caused havoc in Serbia, where homes have been toppled or submerged in mud, trees felled and villages strewn with the rotting corpses of livestock.

With food and waste decaying in rising temperatures, the threat of disease now looms. Serbia's agriculture ministry issued an appeal for more chlorine bleach, quicklime, protection gear and disinfectants to combat the risk.

20 May 2014. VISOKO, Bosnia and Herzegovina. REUTERS/Dado Ruvic

In Bosnia, the floods have also undone years of work to detect landmines that remain planted across the country since its 1992-95 war.

Authorities are warning that many of the more than 100,000 remaining landmines have been dislodged by heavy rain, floodwaters and landslides.

In the image above, members of Bosnia's army rest near a home surrounded by mines in an area near river Bosna.

18 May 2014. Belgrade, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

Many of those displaced by the crisis, like the evacuees from the badly hit Serbian town of Obrenovac, pictured above, are now faced with the daunting prospect of picking up the pieces of their lives.

Both Serbia and Bosnia have appealed for foreign aid to help with the recovery, with some damage estimates for each country in the range of 1 billion euros.

1 / 16

Slideshow

16 May 2014. TOPCIC POLJE, Bosnia and Herzegovina. REUTERS/Dado Ruvic

Asim Skopljak walks down a street wrecked by floods in central Bosnia.

16 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

People stand on the terrace of their flooded home as they wait to be evacuated in the town of Obrenovac, where most of Serbia's 27 dead were found.

17 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

Serbian soldiers lift a boy from a flooded house in the town.

16 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

The Serbian army evacuates more flood victims.

16 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

People sit in a boat after being evacuated by Serbian soldiers.

18 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Antonio Bronic

Others are evacuated from the flooded town of Obrenovac.

17 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

A man rows a boat past submerged ambulances in the hard-hit town.

15 May 2014. Lazarevac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

Another man drives his car down a flooded street in the town of Lazarevac, south of Belgrade.

17 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

Children sit in a bus after being evacuated from Obrenovac.

16 May 2014. TOPCIC POLJE, Bosnia and Herzegovina. REUTERS/Dado Ruvic

Members of a rescue team help residents from their flooded houses in central Bosnia.

A man climbs on the roof of a house to feed pigs rescued during heavy flooding in the village of Vojskova.

19 May 2014. Krupanj, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

A woman weeps as she sits among the remains of her devastated home.

17 May 2014. Obrenovac, Serbia. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

People try to help an injured man in the flooded town of Obrenovac.

20 May 2014. TOPCIC POLJE, Bosnia and Herzegovina. REUTERS/Dado Ruvic

A man helps dig out a car buried by floods and landslides.

20 May 2014. TOPCIC POLJE, Bosnia and Herzegovina. REUTERS/Dado Ruvic

A car lies covered in debris after the floods.

"I have felt a struggle within myself between the man who is watching his friends and family suffer, and the journalist, who is trying to document it."
Dado Ruvic, Reuters Photographer

For many days since the floods in the Balkans began, I have woken up with tears in my eyes. I have been looking at my friends in disbelief, watching as their lives slowly crumble.

Bosnia has been devastated by the worst floods to hit the region in living memory. More than a million people have been cut off from clean water, 100,000 buildings have been left uninhabitable and over half a million people have left their homes.

From the beginning of this crisis, I have felt a struggle within myself between the man who is watching his friends and family suffer, and the journalist, who is trying to document it all for the rest of the world.

Part of my family has been cut off by the floods. Some have become homeless, some have been left with almost nothing; just a plastic bag carrying a few sets of clothes, a piece of bread and a bottle of water.

Teachers, farmers, chefs… They have all become refugees. Their priorities in life are no longer taking a trip to the seaside, buying a car, or a new house. Just like in the old days of conflict in the Balkans, they are now struggling for mere survival.

Often I stand aside, put down my camera and think. In the days before the flood we saw disasters happening on TV in far away countries, thinking complacently that it would not happen to us. Now, we are at the centre of a catastrophe that makes up 30 seconds on someone else’s news broadcast.

Of course this is not the first time Bosnia has been hit by crisis; lots of people are now losing their homes for the second time in 20 years. Two decades ago it was because of the war, now it is because of floods and landslides.

Telecommunications and electricity have been cut off for many, as have roads to a large number of villages. It feels like the whole population is either part of the rescue effort, or else a refugee.

My brother Alen, a professor, has spent the last few days away from his school desk. Together with friends from an amateur radio club, he has been going to the hardest hit villages, helping people, delivering food and establishing communications.

He is one of many who have pulled together to help; thousands of people have been donating food, thousands have been contributing to the rescue. One moment, you feel lucky, the next you see all those people who have lost almost everything.

Now, it's even hard to recognise some of the people who I know. Their eyes look different, without any brilliance or depth. Their gaze is unrecognisable.

It's hard to look through the viewfinder of a camera and watch a familiar house collapse. The house where you used to sit – that house no longer exists. All you see is the foundation, and objects scattered around in the mud. That’s a hard picture to take.